


stitching and fixing.

by sp201120122013



Series: Dangerverse [4]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp201120122013/pseuds/sp201120122013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this kid is messed up, they said. </p><p>this kid is looking like a real goddamn wreck, they said.</p><p>(originally posted 2012)</p>
            </blockquote>





	stitching and fixing.

"I don't like him."

 

"I know, but he's..."

 

"I said I don't like him."

 

"For the love of god, do you not see how fucked up he is? KK, here, get me the--"

 

"I don't like him. I don't think you get it." Kobra snapped, for the third time. Poison sighed, exasperated into his hands as he wiped his chin and glared up at his brother.

 

"Look, I don't give a shit what you think of him. He's on our side, we're not just going to let this kid go down. Now you go in Pony's room and get the gauze." Poison ordered, pushing the hair out of his face. Kobra rolled his eyes before stomping out of the room, and Poison turned his attention back down to the head resting in his lap. 

 

Poison made a point to take his gloves off--the sand and blood coating them would only make things worse. He wiped his grubby fingers and sweaty palms on his jeans before starting to inspect the skin of the man--no, the boy he was holding. This kid couldn't even be twenty yet. They get younger and younger, Poison thought, unraveling his bandana from around his neck to mop at the blood running down the kid's face, hopefully to clear out some space around the actual wound.

 

"Shit," he whispered when it came into view. It was a long, deep cut, running from ear to cheek. Characteristic of the Draculoids, he thought. It wasn't a tactic necessarily supported by BL/ind, but it did have a suspicious similarity to the city's main message. "KK! I'm gonna need stitch stuff!" Poison hollered. "And fucking hurry up!"

 

Poison pressed hard on the wound, a desperate attempt to keep down the bleeding. He was sweaty, and the shed they were in, connected to D's larger hideout, was stifling. The dim light made it difficult to see, and Poison yelled for Kobra to fetch a lantern, too. "Shit, shit, shit...where the fuck is Jet when you need him..." Poison hissed, pushing the kid's hair away from his face. The skin of his forehead and cheeks was slick with sweat, and Poison prayed that was only a result of the climate, not infection.

 

Kobra came back, arms full of supplies. With Kobra came light, the dirt floor illuminated and the true extent of the kid's wounds magnified with the lantern he brought. Poison extended one hand to take the scanty "first-aid" materials from his brother, spreading them out across the kid's chest. 

 

"Hey, don't forget this." Kobra said, shoving a bottle of booze in Poison's face.

 

"I'm not suturing him drunk, are you crazy?" Poison snapped.

 

"No, dumbass, sterilization!"

 

"Fuck, sterilization...fucking...right, sorry." Poison grabbed the bottle, uncorking it and spilling some over the kid's face. "As if anything can ever be sterile out here," he mumbled, clumsily threading the needle Kobra had brought him. His hands were shaky, and it took him several tries to succeed. Kobra stood over him, looming. 

 

"So...what happened to him?"

 

"Well, there's a big fucking gash in his face, for one." Poison snapped.

 

"Anything else?" Kobra drawled, scratching at his neck. He was lazy, slow in every movement. His apathy was evident.

 

Anything else. Fuck, Poison thought. He had been so focused on the most obvious wound that he hadn't thought to fully examine the rest of the kid, beneath his scruffy, too-big clothes. He hadn't had time to get ones that fit, Poison thought. This kid must be fresh. Poison shook his head, trying to steady his hands as he turned the kid's face over in his lap, pinching the skin of the cheek in his hand as he made his first stab with the needle. The kid moaned out into Poison's thigh, twitching. Poison didn't normally pray for people to be unconscious, but it would be so much better if this kid could just knock out for a while.

 

"KK, you might have to hold him." Poison said, trying to work as quickly as he could with the stitching. He heard the kid cry out louder with each stab, moans becoming more clipped, more aware. "Shhh, shh, it's okay, it'll be fast." he whispered. Not that the boy could necessarily understand him, but it would be close enough. 

 

Poison made a particularly clumsy stab into the skin, and the boy screamed, kicking out his legs and jerking around in Poison's lap. "KK, shit, get him!" Poison snapped, trying to hold on to the kid's head, the needle, the shoulders all at once. Kobra was able to look past his laziness to shove a hand down on the boy's chest, to straddle his lap and hold down his legs.

 

"Fucker's alive, at least." Kobra grumbled as he struggled to keep the kid down. He was continuing to make pained noises and kick all over the place. 

 

"Can you see if there's anything else wrong with him?" Poison asked, trying to get a grip on the kid's face again. He was only half finished sewing the wound, and it was still bleeding out of the open half. Poison's hands were soaked with the stuff.

 

"Besides his fucking wiggling?"

 

"No, goddammit KK, look for more wounds!"

 

Kobra huffed, pushing himself a little bit. The kid was continuing to twitch, but his burst of energy seemed for the most part spent. He had stopped thrashing, and stopped yelling. Poison tentatively made another stitch in his cheek, and the boy only whimpered. Kobra lifted up the kid's shirt, looking underneath it before pushing it all the way up, exposing the kid's chest. The ribs were only half poking out, affirming Poison's thoughts that the kid was relatively fresh out of the city. He hadn't been starving long.

 

Kobra scanned his chest, finding nothing but bruises, and reached around to pat at his back. There was no blood when he pulled his hand back. He checked the arms, turning them over from forearm to back, and then moved on to the legs.

 

"Shit, Poison, we have a problem." Kobra said, running his hand over the wet denim of the boy's thigh.

 

"What?" Poison asked, giving the thread one more sharp tug before snipping it off the needle and tying it tight at the end of his stitches, a black knot settled right by the edge of the kid's hairline. The hair was still short, and Poison ran one hand over its bristles. The kid's eyes were shut, but they were obviously clenched tight with pain. He didn't look peaceful.

 

"Lasergraze." Kobra said, moving away to let Poison have a better look. "It looks pretty bad. Like they got him when he was running away."

 

"I'm surprised he ran through this...fuck, there's so much blood." Poison pulled out his knife, picking the soggy fabric surrounding the wound and beginning to cut it off. "Do we have any spare chems?" 

 

The kid twitched again at that statement, and Poison immediately shot out a hand to put it on the kid's head. "Shh, shh. Stay still. Stay still," he whispered, returning to his removal of the denim, this time one handed. "D'we have any rags, KK?"

 

"I dunno." Kobra frowned.

 

"Well can you go look?"

 

Kobra got up again, shuffling out of the shed into the main rooms. Poison splashed some booze over the wound, shushing the kid through his hisses of pain. "Can you talk, baby? You okay?" he mumbled, pressing his bandana to the burnt, bloody skin. "Do you have a name?" he asked, tugging on the kid's jacket to try and look for a label inside. Nothing. The clothes were so borrowed that the kid's bottom layer was still regulation clothes from the city. He was fresh out of the woods. Poison noted that there wasn't even a gun holster attached to the kid, much less a gun. "What were you thinking, kiddo?" he mumbled, stroking the kid's sweaty skin.

 

Kobra returned with a slam of the door, a stained handful of cloth in his hands. "This is all we got." 

 

"That'll work." Poison took the rags, looping them tight and quick around the thigh of the kid. This wound at least wasn't bleeding so badly. He sighed as soon as it was done, slumping on his knees over the kid. His shirt was almost skimming the boy's nose. "Do you know where anyone else is?"

 

"Jet went on a run for chems."

 

"For the kid?"

 

"No, dipshit. Jet went off before we even found this little shit. Besides, we're not sharing."

 

"KK, you can't just--"

 

"He's not part of our team! And we don't even have enough to go around as it is! It's cute that you've got your hero instinct, but he's not staying!" Kobra yelled. Poison tried to hush him, giving a pointed look at the kid and then his brother. Kobra continued to rage.

 

"I'm not taking on another asshole--and especially one who can't even take care of himself. This kid is scorpion meat, there's no fucking chance for him to make it out here."

 

"Kobra, I think you're forgetting that D and Pony took us in."

 

"I think you're forgetting that I don't give a shit." 

 

"You're an asshole."

 

"And you're a pushover."

 

"Fine." Poison snapped. "Fine, you go ahead. But I'm talking to the others as soon as we get home, and even if you don't want him around, I'm going to bet you there will be four people who will."

 

"Fuck you."

 

"Just go away, KK. You're being an irrational fucking child."

 

"Whatever." 

 

Kobra left, slamming the door behind him, and Poison slumped against the rickety, drafty wall of the shed. There were piles of sand that had blown in through the cracks. "Sorry about my brother." he mumbled to the kid in his lap, scooting him up to allow his neck to rest at a better angle. The kid was out of it, breathing slow and heavy in Poison's lap. "You'll be okay." Poison said, grimacing at the blood that continued to gently push out of the kid's thigh, the mess smeared across the kid's face. "You'll be okay."


End file.
